


Shatter

by Coalix



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Asexual Character, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Modern Girl in Thedas, Slow Updates, Solas is a Creep, There is no plot, character focused
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-02-28 11:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13270713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coalix/pseuds/Coalix
Summary: “You are one of only two survivors of the destruction of the Conclave,” the woman in the amour says. “Can you explain what happened?”“I don’t know what happened,” I say shaking my head slightly. “I don’t know where I am or what—,” I let out a small sob, “what even happened to my leg.” I laugh a little, sounding hysterical, I’m sure. "So, if you could tell me what happened, that would be great.”





	1. Chapter 1

The pain in my right knee is excruciating. I cry out as I feel someone prodding it, jarring my entire leg. Pain is radiating through my whole body, but I’m scared to open my eyes to see what happened.

I don’t want to know what's going on. I don’t want this to be real.

“The bones are splintered,” I hear someone say, though their voice is muffled. It’s hard to focus on anything through the haze.

I feel hands under my shoulder and my eyes snap open. I’m immediately blinded by the sun and the tears in my eyes are making everything worse. I try to struggle against all the hands I feel on my body, but I’m too weak, my leg hurts too much. I become dead weight and let them move me. I don’t even have the energy to scream when they move my leg.

I just let go.

Everything is dark. 

* * *

  
Whorls of sickly green flash across my vision. Dark shapes are coming toward me. I try to move, but the pain makes me freeze in place. The green surrounds me like fire and I can do nothing to put it out.

Someone starts screaming.

I hear metal clatter to the floor and I jerk awake. My throat burns. I barely take note of the wooden ceiling above me before immediately turning my head to my left and seeing a woman standing there, a copper colored basin at her feet. She’s standing in a puddle of water.

“They—they said you’d still be sleeping,” she says in a quiet voice, her eyes wide with fright.

“What?” I croak out as I try to take her in. My eyes are bleary, but I can see her clothes are worn and somewhat dirty. She’s wearing a threadbare apron over a brown dress that just touches her ankles.

_Why is she even wearing that?_

She still has a startled look on her face and she’s trying to look anywhere but at me. Finally, she reaches for the basin, stops like she thinks better of it, and then bends and actually picks it up, clutching it as best she can to her chest like it’s a shield.

“I’ll get the healer,” she says, again quiet and eyes averted. She quickly makes her way out the door, making almost no noise as she does so.

It’s not until the door closes that I notice when I first woke I couldn’t feel anything but the burning in my throat. But, as time goes on, I’m starting to feel a dull throb in my knee that’s steadily getting worse. I shift my right leg slightly, but the pain becomes unbearable and I cry out, tears pricking at my eyes.

I do my best to reach for my leg, but any movement causes my entire body to ache. My jaw clenches to avoid any more outbursts.

My fingertips brush down my bare thigh and touch the edge of damp cloth. I pull my hand back and see a small smear of blood on the very tips of my fingers.

* * *

I couldn’t believe it.

His ears were _pointed and_  his hands were _glowing_.

Aside from the pain, these were the only things I could focus on. Plus, the man’s ears were something to look at, to keep me from looking at the bloody mess that is my knee.

There were other people in the room, but their talking was nothing more than white noise in the haze of my mind. My attention was on the man kneeling before my bed, hands poised and _glowing_ above my leg.

A firm “ _Miss_ ” breaks through the haze. The man with the pointed ears is looking at me.

_Is he talking to me?_

I say nothing, but let out a small whine as I stare at him. The pain in my leg hasn’t subsided.

“What is your name?” he asks, his tone firm, making sure I pay attention.

“Diane.” My voice is quiet, almost hoarse.

“My magic doesn’t appear to be affecting you. We’re going to have to make an incision to try to heal your knee that way. Do you understand?” It’s almost as if a storm is brewing behind his eyes as he says this.

I want to ask why they didn’t perform surgery already, what does he mean “his magic isn’t working,” but I only nod. I just want the pain to stop and him waving his hands around isn’t doing _anything_.

The man stands, leaving my bedside for a moment before returning, holding a small, glass vial in his hand.

“I need you to drink this,” he says as he reaches under my shoulders, lifting me up as he puts the vial to my lips.

I drink and everything starting fading away. 

* * *

When I wake, the room had been taken over darkness, except for the small glow of an untended fire across the room from my bed. There’s a dull pain pulsating in my leg. It’s nowhere near as intense as before, but I still hesitate to move at all.

My body feels weighed down, as if I were just beneath of the surface of water, though still trying to rise. I try to blink away the grogginess as I look around the strange room I’m in.

It’s a small, one room cabin. There’s a desk in the corner of the the far wall, near the fireplace. A door directly adjacent to me on my left side. A nightstand right next to my head. There’s a metal pitcher and a cup on it.

The word _water_ whispers through my mind when I see it. I reach for the cup, but my arm is heavy and hard to move. The edges of my vision are blurring when my hand finally touches the edge of the cup. Instead of grabbing it, I end up knocking it over. My arm falls to my chest. I think I hear water dripping. 

* * *

  
Sunlight is spilling across my face when I open eyes yet again, leaving a pleasant warmth on my skin. It feels like I’ve slept for ages yet at the same time I still have a sense of exhaustion clouding my mind. My body continues to ache, making it hard to focus on anything.

I notice my arms are tucked alongside by body, under what appears a fur blanket. I could have sworn I moved them during the night. It’s the fur that really bothers me, though.

 _Who the hell has fur blankets?_ I lift my arms out from the covers and lightly stroke the fur. It’s coarse, but still has a slight softness to it. The coloring reminds me of an elk, though I can’t be sure that’s what it is.

The door opens and my eyes quickly flit to it, squinting at the harsh, bright white that lies immediately beyond it. The door closes as quickly as it had opened and the man who entered is grumbling to himself. He’s not the same man with the glowing hands that came before. His ears are normal and he’s sporting a mustache and beard. He knocks his feet together like he’s trying to knock mud off of them before turning his eyes toward me.

“Good, you’re awake,” he says, moving to the desk and setting down a small bag he was carrying. He takes something out and walks toward me. “How is your knee?” he asks, though it almost sounds like he doesn’t care, like he’d rather be somewhere else.

“Hurts,” I say quietly, my voice still muted from sleep. The man grunts in response.

“The bones around your knee were severely damaged. We managed to remove several fragments, but we couldn’t get them all.” Then he pauses for a small moment. “It’s…also unlikely that you’ll regain full use of your right leg. We figure your leg will heal, but due the nature of the damage, you’ll likely walk with a limp, once your leg heals enough for you to walk, that is,” he says the last part more to himself than to me. He isn’t even _looking_ at me when he says this.

My chest constricts.

“I won’t be able to _walk_ anymore?” I choke out.

“You’ll be able to walk, just not anytime soon. Your leg has to heal as much as it can on its own and that will take time considering you are apparently… _resistant_ to magic.” He seems largely unconcerned with the news that he has given me. Only the sound of slight fascination colors his voice when he mentions magic. I start to feel tears pricking at my eyes when he holds a vial of red liquid toward my face. “Drink this. It should help with the pain for now.”

I don’t know what else to do but take it. The taste is unpleasant, but not unbearable. My breathing starts to get heavy. My eyes are darting everywhere, trying to find some sort of solution in the woodwork. I lie back down.

“Someone will be in to speak with you shortly,” the man says, walking back to the desk, but I barely hear him.

_I won’t be able to walk._

Tears escape my eyes, trailing down toward my temples and into my hair and, in my distress, I jerk my legs. Pains flares out from my knee and I cry out. I pound my fists in the mattress at my sides in frustration and I immediately regret it. The action jostles my entire body, the pain growing and becoming more intense.  
There’s nothing else I can do but close my eyes and sob.

I don’t even hear when the man flees from the room. 

* * *

I eyes ache and my face burns. The dried tears on the sides on my face make my skin itch. The door opens, but I don’t turn to see who it is. I don’t care.

The person stops a foot or two from my bed. I finally flick my eyes toward them after they stand there for a moment without saying anything. There are two people. One in plate armor, the other in chainmail and a deep purple hood.

“You are one of only two survivors of the destruction of the Conclave,” the woman in the amour says. She has a scar running along the left side of her face, just under her cheekbone, reaching toward her chin. She has short, dark hair. Her eyes are hard and fierce as she asks, “Can you explain what happened?”

 _I can’t walk I can’t walk I can’t walk._ The thought keeps pounding through my head and it won’t stop.

“Conclave?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“Do you remember what happened before the explosion? Did you see anything?” the woman in the purple hood asks.

My eyes flick back and forth between the two women, taking them in and finally realizing what was wrong. “I don’t remember any explosion. I don’t even know where I am.”  
The two exchange a look, though I can’t decipher what they are trying to say to each other with that one glance.

“Do you know Malika Cadash?” the woman in the purple hood continues.

The name means nothing. “Should I?”

“She’s the other survivor. And she doesn’t know you. So, tell us, why should we believe that you had nothing to do with what happened?”

I let out a small sigh. I’m so tired. I don’t want to be answering questions. “I don’t know what happened,” I say shaking my head slightly. “I don’t know where I am or what—,” I let out a small sob, “what even happened to my leg.” I laugh a little, sounding hysterical, I’m sure. “I saw a man with pointed ears and glowing hands. I was home and now I’m in some cabin that looks like it belongs in a western movie and then you two come in dressed like that. So, if you could tell _me_ what happened, that would be _great_.” I feel more tears escape.

A moment passes before the woman with dark hair speaks. “You were found with Cadash. A large piece of debris had landed on your leg, resulting in your injury. When Cadash was asked about you, she said she did not recognize your name nor your description, but the both of you were found with your hands reaching out toward each other.”


	2. Chapter 2

It takes embarrassingly long for me to realize that I’m not home anymore. I’m…in another place.

_Did I die?_

It finally hit me when the women who were questioning me earlier said we were in a place called Haven, in the Frostback Mountains. I had never heard of either place before. I think it was evident from the look on my face, because Leliana, the woman in the purple hood, further said, “You are in the country of Fereldan.” I had nodded like I understood, but I've never heard that place either. And not to mention their clothes makes no sense. Or rather, it would make no sense for someone back home to be wearing them. But here…

And then Solas came.

He had told me his name upon entering the cabin, not long after Leliana and Cassandra had left and just after my realization.

“Your circumstances are odd,” Solas says, after checking my knee. I try not to stare at his ears.

_He’s a fucking elf._

“Tell me about it,” I say, trying to roll my shoulders in attempt to not look at the man as well as stretch as much as I can from my slightly uncomfortable sitting position.

“I’m sure you’ve been made aware of how you were found.” I nod. “You are also strangely resistant to magic, at least healing magic. There’s more of an effect on dwarves than there is on you.”

I desperately want to ask about magic. Everything else seems relatively normal, except for it and, you know, _elves_ , and now _dwarves_. I can probably fool myself into thinking I’ve been kidnapped, that I’m being kept by these strange people and being treated in a cabin in the woods so they can avoid hospitals and the police. I mean, I haven’t even seen anything but the inside of this cabin. Even with a window to my right, I can only see the sky from my mainly prone position. I want him to prove it to me. That this is real. I want to see him do something, like make his hands glow again when I’m sure I’m not imagining it, like I wasn’t imagining his ears, but I can’t. Or rather, I’m afraid to.

It’s seems an impossible scenario that even these people with their magic and whatever else would accept my claim of being from another world. _What would they do if they found out?_

I don’t want to risk it.

“I don’t understand,” I say after a beat of silence.

“So magic has been used on you before? This is only a recent development, a result of the Breach and your presence next to the Herald?” It’s almost like he’s thinking out loud rather than asking me these questions. He has his left arm raised, holding on the elbow of the other, with his right hand raised to his chin, a classic “thinking” pose. I didn’t think people actually did that.

“I…yes.” I can’t keep my voice steady and my eyes flit to the fireplace to watch the flames. Solas notices. His hands lower, clasping them behind his back instead.

“Tell me, where are you from?” I don’t know what to say. _Not the truth._

 “I’m…not from around here.” Normally said as a joke, I remain serious, just wanting him to accept the vague answer. _What do I say, what do I say?_

"Clearly.” He is not amused. I risk a glance at him and see that he is practically glaring at me. His eyes seem cast in shadow, like a dark cloud is growing behind them, a storm waiting to be unleashed at the next misstep. I’m trapped in them, unable to look away.

I feel tears starting to pool in my eyes, the truth rising up in my throat. I open my mouth to speak, to tell him everything, but the words fumble and I choke on them. A war is being fought within me. The fear of what will happen if I do say it and what will happen if I don’t. I open my mouth again and it almost escapes when there’s a knock on the door.

Solas quickly turns his glare toward the sound, away from me. The fear releases the crushing grip it has on my chest and I suck in a breath, quickly wiping my eyes, hoping neither Solas nor the new arrival sees how watery they became.

The door opens and someone pokes their head through.

“I heard she was awake.” It’s a woman’s voice, low and quite. Looking at where her head is in the doorway, I see she’s not very tall.

“She is,” Solas says, his expression turning neutral, pleasant even, not betraying even a hint of the look he was giving me a moment before. The woman steps into the cabin and closes the door softly behind her. She comes to stand next to Solas and she doesn’t quite reach his shoulder, and Solas doesn’t seem extremely tall himself, but my perspective could be skewed because I’m still lying on the bed.

“Is there anything else that needs done? I was hoping to speak with her privately,” the woman says, giving Solas a pleasant smile. Now that she’s come closer, I see that her skin is a rich brown, a warm hue to it. Her dark hair is pulled back into a ponytail, a braid on each side of her head, a few errant strands frame the sides of her face. When she turns to look at me, she still has that smile on her face. She looks so kind, her expression inviting. Her hazel, almost golden eyes betray nothing but sincerity. I immediately want to like her.

“No, I believe I am finished.” He places another vial of red liquid on the stand next to my bed. “Drink this if you start feeling pain in your knee again. Don’t wait too long to take it or you may become uncomfortable. I will return to check on you later, Diane.” It almost feels like a warning, a threat. Like he’s coming back to rip and answer out of me. He turns to the woman and gives a slight nod. “Herald,” he says as a form of goodbye and walks out the door, closing it softly behind him.

“Hello, Diane.” The woman smiles at me, looking youthful and so kind. I wonder for a moment how old she is. She looks toward the desk before looking back at me while gesturing with her thumb. “You don’t mind if I sit do you? I’ve been standing all day.”

“Uh, no, go ahead,” I say, surprised that she even felt the need to ask. She walks over, grabs the chair that’s pushed up against the desk and drags it back to my bed.

Once she settles herself in the chair she holds her right hand out to me and says, “I’m Malika Cadash.” I’m wondering why she’s not giving me her left hand as I carefully reach over and take her outstretched one, which requires a sightly uncomfortable amount of movement in my right leg. After letting go, I see it. The green glow on her left hand. Whorls of the same color flash across my mind for a moment, like I had seen it before and my brain is trying to remember from where. I shake my head, trying to clear the image.

_What was that?_

Malika sees me looking at her hand and holds it up. “Apparently, I’m the lucky one between the two of us,” she says, staring at her own hand with an almost wistful expression. “It’s some type of magic, some believe from the Maker or Andraste, given to me to seal the Breach. Because of it, they locked me up in a cell after they found us.” A horrified expression finds its way onto my face. Malika notices. She lowers her hand and tries to soothe me. “Don’t worry, it wasn’t for long once they realized it could connect to the Breach and stabilize it.” Half of what she said makes no sense to me and doesn’t do much to make me feel better. If it hadn’t been for my injury, would I be locked in a cell right now?

“I’m sorry, but who are the Maker and Andraste? And what’s the Breach?” I give a weary look to her slightly glowing hand.

“Huh, I suppose you have been cooped up here recovering ever since the explosion,” she says like the thought hasn’t crossed her mind before. She ignores my first question and continues, “The Breach is a tear in the Veil. It’s an opening to the Fade that’s causing more, smaller tears—they’re calling those Rifts—all over the place. Long story short, it’s bad and it needs stopped.” More words that I don’t understand.

“So what makes those…tears so bad?” I’ve already forgotten the words she used, but I’m trying my best to understand. I need to understand.

“They allow demons to cross over.”

_What._

“Demons,” I say, my tone deadpan and unbelieving.

 “Yes, and they’re probably wreaking havoc all over the place.” She scoffs and say to herself, “Never knew how lucky I was that I never had to see those monsters.”

Malika loses herself in her thoughts and I leave her to it. The pause gives me a moment to collect my own.

"How long has it been since they found us?” I ask. It’s the first time I think of it. Between realizing that I’m in this place and what happened to my leg, I haven’t given thought to much else.

“Five days.”

“Could you tell me what happened? I don’t…remember anything and, like you said, I’ve been stuck in here.”

Malika takes a moment to gather herself. “After the explosion, after they found us, I was told that Cassandra and Leliana were very eager to find out why we were the only survivors. Unfortunately for them, that first day neither of us were able to do much talking. Physically I was fine enough. I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but…I saw things. It messed with me. The second day, when I was able to talk, I was mainly yelled at because I couldn’t give straight answers. I didn’t remember much about the explosion or this mark. Cassandra and Leliana didn’t ask many questions, though. Just threw accusations at me and tossed my ass outside to get good view of the Breach. Said I had to fix. Still have to fix it apparently.” Malika scoffed at that last part.

“Anyway,” she continues, “Cassandra asked me about you on our way to the temple. And now, sitting here, looking at you, I can say for sure I’ve never met you. And it definitely wasn’t you I saw in that…place.”

After a moment, I say, “I don’t remember you either.” The words leave an uncomfortable weight in the pit of my stomach. Absolutely nothing about this place is familiar. At least, not yet. I’m clinging to the hope that there has to something I recognize, something that will tell me _more_.

“So where did you come from then?” Her eyes are calculating. Not cold, not like Solas’s were, more curious than anything. Like she’s used to knowing all the answers, but can’t seem to figure this one out.

“I really can’t say.” My throat tightens and the words are quite. Malika raises and eyebrow.

“Can’t or won’t?” I squirm, searching for an answer while she studies me. “You don’t have to tell me. I understand the feeling.” She pauses again and I don’t know what to say. My fingers start to twitch like they do every time I’m uncomfortable. Then, she gives a dry laugh and looks away. “To think they’re calling a dwarf the Herald of Andraste when you’re probably a better fit. A woman no one remembers seeing at the Conclave suddenly appears, reaching out to me, taking significant injury while I escape relatively unscathed. Who knows, maybe you gave me this mark,” Malika says, a playful smirk gracing her face.

My mind does it’s best to process all that she just said, but it doesn’t make any sense.

_Where in the nine circle of hell am I?_

I must not give the reaction Malika was looking for because the smirk falls from her face. I try to hold her gaze, but fail. My eyes rove over her instead, taking in the strange leather clothes and… _Are those_ knives?

At first, all I see are two handles, one poking up over each shoulder. The more I look at her, I finally see two ends poking out from behind her sides. No, not knives, daggers.  
Malika catches me staring and turns her head to look at one of the handles. “You worried I’m going to use them?” My eyes fly to hers.

“Should I be?”

“That depends.” Her tone is flat. Expression almost bored, toeing the line of impassiveness. “I know you have something to hide.” She stares at me, definitely noticing my hands twisted in the sheets. My heart is beating out of my chest. “Did you cause the explosion at the Conclave?”

“I still don’t know what that is!” I cry out in a panic. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it. Why would I want to?” I’m tired of this. Of not knowing. I just want to go home.

“What are you hiding? What won’t you tell the others?” she pleads. Her brows are furrowed. Her eyes so gentle, so kind. She places her right hand on top of my left, the movement slow, her touch light. “Diane.” My name is like an offering of salvation falling from her lips and I tremble.

A tear slides down my face. I’m not sure why I’m crying.

“I’m not from _here_.”


	3. Chapter 3

She had kept her hand on mine the entire time. I couldn’t look at her face. I’m sure mine was red and blotchy. After I had told her, she didn’t say anything for what seemed like the longest time. I closed my eyes, tried to calm myself, and felt her hand leave mine.

My eyes flew open and I jumped when I felt something wet and cold touch my cheek. It was Malika, holding a damp cloth in her hand.

“It’s alright,” she had said. I just stared at her as she wiped the tears from my face.

“Close your eyes,” she had said. I did. She gently patted them with the cloth. It helped cool the burning and aching. My breathing finally started to slow. She took the cloth away and I opened my eyes again.

I silently watched as she walked over to the fireplace, swung a small bar with a hook at the end close to the fire, and placed the cloth across the bar. She walked back over to me.

“Get some rest,” she had said and gestured for me to lie down. She adjusted the bed sheets and fur blanket, effectively tucking me in.

“Someone will be in later to check on you. Remember that vial on the stand there if you’re in pain,” she said as she walked out the door.

* * *

I stayed in bed all morning, which sounds nice in theory, but with nothing to do it was rather boring. I’m still lying down, so I can’t even stare at the fire as it crackles and pops and the window only provides a view of the sky from my position. I tried sitting up once, but my leg didn’t exactly agree with the action so I stopped trying. It wasn’t the unbearable pain from before, probably because of whatever I had been given, but it was enough to tell me not to try again and just deal with being immobile.

Worry has been gnawing at me all morning after Malika left. She hadn’t said anything after I told her. She didn’t even react. What would she tell those other people? Are they going to lock me up? Call me crazy? That’s what would happen back home. People didn’t like to make room for anyone who couldn’t at least pretend to be normal, whatever that meant.

I must have dozed off because I jolt at the sound of a knock on the door. I don’t have time to even process it before it opens and Solas walks in.

“How is your leg?” he asks by way of greeting. I hate having to look up at him like this. It makes me feel small, powerless.

“Only a bit of pain when I tried moving.” He raises an eyebrow. “I wanted to sit up. It’s a little boring just lying here with nothing to look at.”

A small smile. “I see.” He moves closer to the bed and places his hand on the sheets. “Let me have a look,” he says, clearly not asking permission as he peels them away from me without another word.

I’m wearing a long tunic that touches the middle of my thighs when it’s not bunched around my waist. Currently, it’s sitting at the tops of my thighs, low enough for me to consider myself modestly covered. Not to mention he’s acting like a doctor, so I don’t feel particularly shy about my lack of pants. He’s seen it all before anyway, I’m sure.

Solas gently removes the bandages wrapped around my knee and instead of having me lift my leg up he just lightly pulls the bandages out from under it. I can feel Solas light prodding my knee, causing some pain, but no more than I’m able handle.

He pauses for just a moment and then I see his hand glowing like they had before. They’re emitting a soft, green glow, much more pleasant looking than the sickly green leaking from Malika’s hand. I don’t feel that same strange pull I had with Malika either. He holds his hand there for a moment and I’m wondering if I’m supposed to feel something, but there’s nothing. If this is supposed to be what magic is like, it’s pretty disappointing. I glance at his face and I see his brow is furrowed, in confusion, frustration or whatever, I don’t know. Hell, maybe he always looks like that.

Solas’s hand stops glowing and he says, as if he hadn’t done anything, “It will be a few more days until your stitches can be removed.” I didn’t even know I had stitches. “Could you try to sit up for me?”

I raise myself up on my hands and start to pull myself backward. The movement, of course, causes my knee to flare with pain, but I push through instead of giving up like I had earlier. I manage to get up after a bit of strain and my knee definitely hurts worse than when I first tried. I have to stop myself from reaching down to try to rub the pain away like it would help. If anything, it would only make it worse.

“Good. Now, come sit at the edge of the bed.” I hesitate, not wanting to go through more pain. I wonder for a moment if he’s doing this on purpose, trying to make me feel worse. I take a look at my leg properly for the first time. Looking at the somewhat messy looking stitches around my kneecap, I’m fairly certain they’ll tear if I try to bend it. Then, I remember about the vial on the stand next to my bed. I glace at it and think about reaching for it.

 “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait to take it. You’ll need to know how much you can take,” Solas says, clearing noticing my longing look.

_What does he mean “how much I can take?”_

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” My voice wavers the tiniest bit, berating myself for not taking it earlier, even though I hadn’t noticed the pain so much then.

“Yes,” he says curtly. I stare at Solas for a moment, waiting for him to say something else or to say never mind, I don’t need to unnecessarily hurt myself, but he doesn’t. He just waits and stares right back.

I take a breath, dealing with the defeat and preparing for the worst. Slowly, I start to move my left leg off the bed, toward Solas. My right leg protests at the movement. I turn and face the man in front of me as well as I can. I lift my right leg slightly, so I’m not dragging it on the bed. I still end up wincing. I can feel my face contorting because of the discomfort.

Once it’s hovering over the edge of the bed, I carefully start to bend it. It’s not so bad at first, but then I start to feel the tugging at my stitches. I move to put my leg back on the bed, but Solas is suddenly kneeling in front of me and is holding onto my calf, keeping my leg in place. His grip is firm, not painful, carefully avoiding the injured area. He’s not looking at my face, but rather staring intently at my knee. 

He lifts his right hand and stars to prod at the stitched and swollen skin. I let out a small gasp at the pain, but he ignores me. Then, before I can stop him, he pushes against my shin, forcing my knee to bend.

The stitches tear, dots of blood start to well up from the incision just above me kneecap. Tears form and slip down my face as I let out a whine. Every thought vanishes from my mind. Without thinking, I try to jerk my leg out of his grasp, but I just make the pain worse. My vision starts to blur. My reaction must not phase Solas because he’s still holding onto my leg, making it stay bent.

“What the hell?” I yell at him, my voice cracking ever so slightly. Solas still doesn’t look at me.

Instead, his fingers slowly graze up my leg and rest on my knee. He starts tracing patters on my skin and muttering under his breath., I can’t make out what he’s saying. I’m about to yell at him again, to tell him to _stop, you’re just making it worse_ when I feel it.

A very slight tingling sensation starts to radiate out from the patterns he traced on my skin.

The pain slowly fades.

Solas then stops and stands. I just stare at him, my eyes regaining the focus they had lost due to the pain. He walks over to the fireplace and grabs the cloth Malika used to wipe my face off the bar, which I’m pretty sure was for pots and kettles, where it had been drying. He submerges it in a bowl of water that’s sitting on the desk, wrings it out and walks back to me.

He kneels before me and takes my leg again. For a moment, dread settles in my stomach, though I’m not sure why. I don’t know what else he’s going to do yet I don’t even try to stop him. I’m shocked when he tenderly begins wiping away the blood that spilled from my knee and carefully pulls out the stitches. I look at my knee again. The incision doesn’t look quite as bad as it did a few minutes ago. I still notice that the skin is still fairly swollen.

Solas lifts the cloth away and examines my knee for himself. “How is the pain?”

“There’s…there is none.” I’m dumbfounded. Solas just nods, his brow is furrowed again. “Was that magic?” Even I can hear the wonder in my voice. Solas’s eyes finally look into mine.

“It was.” There’s an expression on his face that I can’t quite name. He stands and walks over to the desk, leaving the cloth there.

“Your hands didn’t glow this time.” I had assumed that because it happened the first time, all magic was some kind of glowy.

“It was a different kind of magic,” he says absentmindedly, lost in his thoughts. I want to ask more. What makes this magic different? Why does it bother him that this kind is working on me? But I leave him be, doubtful that he’d answer me. Instead, I examine my knee.

There’s not even a hint of pain, which shocks me. It had hurt so much, it makes no sense that it’s gone just because I was touched by a wizard. But the more I look at it, I see it’s barely healed at all. It still looks inflamed, _maybe_ slightly less than it was before, though not much. I don’t know much about magic, but I really hope the pain relief isn’t temporary.

Solas heads for the door without another word.

“Hey, does this mean I can walk now?” I call after him, but he’s out the door before the last word falls from my lips.

_Well, now what?_

Trying to stand crosses my mind, but doubt it would be the wisest choice. I gently prod at my knee for myself and it’s practically numb. I don’t press hard, but it’s like I’m not touching it at all. Worry flutters through me.

_It is supposed to be like this?_

* * *

 I’ve resigned myself to being trapped in bed with nothing to do, besides stare at the fire and occasionally out the window when I catch a glimpse of a bird fluttering by.  
The door tentatively starts to open and I whip my head toward it, eager for something to do, even if I have to deal with Leliana and Cassandra again. It’s not them, though. It’s another elf woman, though I’m not sure if she’s the same one that was here when I first woke up since I never got a good look at her. She’s carrying a tray of food, though she’s having trouble carrying it and taking care of the door.

“Hello,” I say, a bit of excitement filling my voice.

The woman keeps her head down. I think I hear her squeak out a quiet _Hello_ , but I’m not sure. She timidly walks over to the bed.

“Food, miss,” she says, still so very quiet, even though she’s a little closer now.

“Thank you,” I say, taking the tray from her hands and placing it on my lap. She quickly moves toward the door, eager to leave it seems. “Wait!” I call out and she freezes, shoulders hunched like she’s afraid. “What’s your name.” I’m desperate to have someone to talk to, especially since that last conversation I had was with Malika and…I’d rather not do that again.

The woman hesitantly turns around, her eyes still cast toward the floor. “Mina, miss,” she says.

My brain scrambles to think of something else to say. It’s like I’ve never had a conversation before. “So…what do you do around here, Mina?” Asking about someone’s job is the worst question to fall out of people’s mouths, but I don’t know what else to ask since I can’t ask normal questions like “What’s your favorite show? Did you hear what happened with that guy on the Internet yesterday?”

“I…I’m not supposed to talk to you.” And with that, she practically runs out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

I spend the next few days almost completely bedridden. Whatever Solas did, it didn’t last. The pain is back in full force, though some of the swelling has gone down. The day after he did his weird magic he came back and examined my knee again. When he asked how it felt, I told him it was like he didn’t do anything. For the first time since meeting him, he looked me in the eye. But it was strange. It wasn’t like he was trying to see me, but rather like he was looking for something.

“Tell me,” he said after his examination, “What are your dreams like?” As I took him in, he looked more tired than he had just yesterday. Like he hadn’t slept as at. He was paler than usual, which was strange in itself because he was already so pale to begin with. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and he almost looked like he was struggling to stay upright.

“My dreams?” I repeated, confused as to why that even matters. “Um, normal I guess? Most of the time I don’t remember them…” My dreams were never anything spectacular, if I remembered them at all.

 “Are you aware when you’re in the Fade? Has anything approached you?”

"Malika said something about a fade, but I have no idea what that is.” Confusion swept over me. People kept mentioning these things yet refused to explain any of it to me. I saw his jaw moving, trying to stem his frustration, though I’m sure what I’ve done wrong other than be ignorant about things I’ve never even _heard of_ before. I was shocked when he finally offered up some information.

“To put it simply, you would experience it as the place you go when you dream.” There was more he wasn’t tell me. It was almost like he was giving me a problem he wanted solved yet didn’t give me the information I’d need to do it.

“Are you talking about astral travel?” I hesitantly asked, “Because I’ve never done that.” His interest piqued at _astral travel_ , though he made no comment on it.

“But you still dream?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Yeah, not everyone remembers their dreams, but they still have them.

My comment seemed to bother him even more, the only thing I’m capable of in this world it seems. He reaches into a pouch at his side and pulls out three more vials filled with that red liquid that helps with my pain and sets them on the nightstand.

“If you can manage it, only use these if the pain becomes too unbearable. The Inquisition needs to ration supplies.” And then he left, even though I’m sure I didn’t answer his question.

He doesn’t come back.

And it’s clear that whoever decreed it has upheld the “no speaking to me” rule. Mina is the only person person to come into the cabin and bring me meals and help me bathe, staying completely silent throughout it all. It’s unnerving to say the least. Every time I try to talk to her she stiffens and purses her lips. I think I even saw her ears twitch once.

She never says a word to me, no matter what I say. And after I finish eating or bathing or when she’s done cleaning what little there is to clean, she hurries out the door. I stopped trying to get Mina to talk to me. It infuriates me that I’m practically being kept in solitary confinement. The only person I’ve be allowed to speak to is Adan, but I think he’s been given instructions as well. Either that or he just hates small talk.

He comes into the cabin once a day to look at my knee, declare that it’s not infected, and then we try to get me to move my leg as much as possible so the muscles don’t start to atrophy. It hurts like a bitch, but Adan said that if I don’t at least try to move my leg as much I can stand to, I might not be able to use it at all. The logic sounds a bit off, to be honest, but I don’t know what else to do. I need to be able to do this.

And so I’m left to my own thoughts, having no other form of entertainment. I’ve been left alone for long enough to start wondering about the existence of reality and if there really is anything beyond my cabin door.

And then there’s a knock. I know immediately it’s not Adan; he never knocks anymore.

“Diane, are you awake?” It’s Malika.

“Yes,” I call eagerly. “Come in.” Though I really doubt she needs permission.

She’s lacking the armor and the daggers she had the other day. Instead, she’s wearing a long-sleeved shirt lined with brass buttons lining the front from the neck to the hem and pants in a matching color. It reminds me of luxury pajamas to be honest.

Malika again takes the chair from the desk and sets it next to my bed. She just sits there and looks me for a moment, taking me in.

“How is your knee?” She asks, her voice containing a peaceful quality that will never cease to draw me in.

“There’s still some pain. Adan and I have been trying to stretch, to make sure…I can still use it.” I hate having to say that. I hate that this has happened to me without even knowing _how_.

Another moment of silence passes. I have no idea why she’s here. She’s never been to see me since that first meeting.

“Why is no one allowed to talk to me?” Since she’s here, I may as well ask. She probably knows something about it.

 Malika inhales, like the answer is weighing heavy on her. “Because you are an unknown, an even bigger one than I am.”

"…Even after what I told you.” It’s hard to get the words to come out. It was a struggle just to tell her in the first place.

“That’s the thing, Diane.” She sits forward, elbows resting on her knees. “I haven’t told anyone.”

Some unknown emotion is swelling in my chest, about to burst. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you.” It isn’t a question. Of course she thinks that.

“I wouldn’t say that,” she says. “But it is a rather outlandish story, you have to admit.”

“It’s not a story, it’s _true_.” She needs to know that.

“I know,” Malika says, her eyes like a pool of gold, pulling me in and holding me there.

My breath leaves me for a moment, realizing what she just said. “You do?”

“Either you’re telling the truth or you’re a very good liar. And trust me, I know quite a bit about lying.”

“But you haven’t those other women about me. You’re why no one is speaking to me.”

Malika holds up her right hand, trying to stop my words. “Now wait a moment. I did tell the others about you, just not what you told me.” Confusion is swirling around me. “You have to admit, it’s rather unbelievable. But I did tell them about you.”

“What did you say…?” To be honest, I’m terrified of what she might have told them.

“Just that you were one of the servants running around the Conclave. Not even Leliana could know all the faces of the every servant who was there after what happened.” She shrugs like it’s not a big deal.

“But what about us being together when they found us?” A bit of relief sweeps over me, thankful that she so readily lied for me, though I don’t know why she did or if it will even work.

“I don’t remember what happened just before the explosion.” I can see she’s perturbed by this. Perhaps she’s not used to not knowing something to this magnitude. “I assume you don’t either.” I shake my head, confirming her words. “And because the people running this shitshow don’t know anything beyond that, and because they don’t want rumors to spread about you, they’re trying to keep any information about you hidden. No on is to talk to you so no one will question whatever narrative they want to spin around you, if they want to spin one, that is.”

“So they’ll believe you?” I have my doubts that it could really be that easy.

“If they want my help, they have no other choice.”

“Are you saying you’re in charge of…whatever this is?” I thought Cassandra and Leliana would have been the ones in charge because of their talk of finding Malika and I.

Malika gives a small smirk. “Well, they’d have a hard time trying to do anything about the hole in the sky without this.” She holds up her marked hand. As if on cue, the things gives a small flare, as if responding to Malika’s words. Again, I can’t help but be mesmerized by it. The swirling green in the center of her palm is practically hypnotic, so much so I can’t pull my eyes away until she puts her hand down and the mark leaves me view. “And with how much they want to keep under wraps, I know they would have a hard time trying to find me if I left.”

A sense of unease settles in my stomach. This isn’t the woman that I spoke to days earlier. The woman who drew me in, listened to me like what I had to say meant something to her. The woman the cared for me so gently after I fell apart in front of her. The person I see in front of me right now is someone who will do whatever she can to achieve her goal.

_What is she?_

“Anyway,” Malika continues, “I wanted to apologize for not coming to see you the past few days.” The person who knew she held so much power fell away, and the loving Malika returned, like she had never gone. “And to tell you that I’ll be leaving to go the the Hinterlands to go find some Chantry mother and convert people to the Inquisition.”

“What will happen to me when you’re gone?” If Malika is the only reason those in charge are leaving me be, what will stop them from locking me up or interrogating me or…or whatever these people do?

“If Leliana bothers you, I’ll know.” I’m about to open my mouth, ask how, but she speaks up before I can get the words out. “Just trust me. _I’ll know_.” I can practically feel myself deflating. Any fight or worry that I had in me is gone. I just don’t see the point. There’s nothing I can do at this point, so why even bother trying to do anything? “I won’t be back for a few weeks, I’m afraid. But I fully expect you to be up and walking by then.” A playful smiling is gracing Malika’s face.

A try to return it, but all I can feel is the chill of bitterness breaking through. “I’ll try, just for you.”

Malika then places her right hand on my left, which is currently curled into a fist, twisting the sheets as I seem to do quite often now. “I’ve be updated about your condition. You will do this, Diane.” Her voice has the quite, intimate quality about that it had that first time we spoke. “I know you will.” I feel my eyes misting over. I’m not so sure I believe her, but I can’t helped but be moved by her words anyway.

Malika stands and I almost beg her to stay. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve spoken at length with someone, and even though the two of us didn’t exactly have the most pleasant conversation and I’m not sure what exactly she wants from me, I enjoyed having Malika sitting her with me.

She gives me hand a small squeeze before releasing it. “I’m afraid I have to go now. I’ll make sure to talk to my… _advisors_ about allowing people to talk to you.” She says the word “advisors” like she hates saying it, like it means fuck all to her. Maybe it does.

“Thank you,” I say, though it’s not exactly my main concern right now.

 Her hand is on the knob before she turns back to look at me. “By the way, you can call me Mal. All my friends do.”

After she leaves, I honestly can’t tell if she’s trying to be my friend or just trying to get me to trust her so she can ruin me later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized I created a tiny plot hole when rereading this chapter. But it's not a big deal and maybe I can fix it later? Who knows. 
> 
> Thanks for your comments and kudos! It means a lot!


	5. Chapter 5

My bedridden state continues. It’s slightly better than what it was previously. Mina has been told she’s allowed to speak with me so I try every time she bring my food or does other things about the cabin, but she’s still so skittish. It makes me wonder how they treat their workers around here if this one woman is so terrified of someone who can’t even get out of bed by herself. I mainly hold one-sided conversations with her, hoping that it will help her open up and talk with me more, but there’s only so much I can say. When I ask what Haven is like, Mina usually sticks to things like “It’s a lovely place,” or “We’re lucky the Inquisition is here.”

When I try to ask about what the Inquisition actually does, she gets a little flustered and doesn’t give a straight answer.

_Does she even know?_

The only other person to come to my tiny cabin is Adan and he just plain and simple doesn’t care to talk to me. He does what I assume he’s been instructed to do with regard to my knee and nothing else. It’s harder to try to talk to him anyway. Still, it’s better than nothing. At least, that’s what I tell myself.

I was eventually given something to read, which I was surprised I was able to read at all quite frankly. It’s a bit of a miracle I share a spoken language with these people as well as a written one. The book they gave me is called the _Chant of Light_ and, to be honest, it’s rather boring. All this stuff about Andraste and their deity, the Maker. It’s a holy text, which makes me even less enthused to read it. But they won’t give me anything else, if they have anything else that is, so I deal with it. It only takes a couple days to get through it once. After reading through it a second time, I get so bored that I start memorizing passages.

 _“Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls._  
_From these emerald waters doth life begin anew._  
_Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you._  
_In my arms lies Eternity.”_  
              -Andraste 14:11

_This is going to get old fast._

It hadn’t occurred to me before I was handed the Chant, that gods actually exist. That worlds other than my own exist. But they clearly do. Well, at least other worlds exist. I try not to dwell on it too much. I don’t think it will be good for my mind if I linger on the subject for too long. But…something is out there.

Even though I’m allowed to speak to people now, I don’t think I’m allowed out of my cabin. I caught sight of an armored body standing outside my door when Mina left after delivering one of my lackluster meals. Though, even if I could leave, I wouldn’t want to. I’ve finally managed a few, very slow, limping steps and reached the window. The first thing I saw: snow.

I’m not going to lie, my heart stopped beating for a second. I hate snow. Pretty to look at, but hell to travel through. And, with the way I’m currently walking, leaning heavily to one side and gently swinging my right leg forward, trying not to put too much weight on it, will make it so much harder to get outside anyway. My cabin fever is being combated by that fact but the itch to take even a step outside still eats at me every time Mina opens the door and I catch a slight breeze of chilled, fresh air.

A tentative knock comes from the door and I know immediately that it’s Mina. No one else who has come to my cabin knocks like they’re afraid I’m actually inside.

“Come in,” I call, as I always do so she doesn’t feel too uneasy about entering. I try my best to make sure I don’t make her uncomfortable while at the same time pushing against her meek nature the slightest bit to get her to talk to me. She seems nice and it would be good to have a friend who wasn’t a as caught up in all the Inquisition business like Mal is.

Mina enters, in her hands a rather large looking stack of clothing. Clothing with fur peeking out at the edges. “I’m to take you for a walk, miss,” she says, her eyes downcast to the floor.

_Fuck._

“I’m actually very comfortable here, Mina. Thank you for the offer, though.” I try to brush off her words. I know I was just thinking of stepping outside, but with the option now open to me, I want to push it away. I’m clearly not as ready as I thought I was.

I see immediately that my words are a mistake as Mina becomes intensely flustered. “But Sister Leliana said that I was to take you outside today.”

_FUCK._

“Of course, Mina. I’m sorry. I was only trying to joke around,” I say immediately. Mina visibly relaxes. I’m positive that she has absolutely no control over this situation with her being a servant and all. I especially wouldn’t want her to go back to jailer Leliana and tell her how uncooperative I’m being.

But then I remember what Mal said to me before she left.

_"If_ _Leliana bothers you, I’ll know.”_

If it is possible that Mal will know or be told, what could she even do? She’s not even here and I have no idea when she’s coming back. I really see no other choice than doing what I’m told, even though I’m unsure if my knee is even healed enough to handle the task.

I’ve gotten used to Mina helping me dress and even bath, so her helping me put on my new clothing is nothing extraordinary, other than it’s slightly more difficult given how much thicker the material is. I already hate it.

Then come the boots. My knee is already upset with the amount of squirming I had to do to get into the pants. Mina is a saint puts my boots on for me and doesn’t say a word about it. Though, as I think about it, I wonder if she could even complain if she wanted to.

And now for the hard part. Mina braces a hand under my upper arm and helps pull me into a standing position, which at first isn’t terrible since I’m completely avoiding putting any weight on my right leg.

“Come now, miss,” Mina says with what sounds like a hint of urgency in her voice.

“What, is Leliana waiting to watch me to come out of the cabin?” I snort, not really expecting an answer.

“Yes, miss,” Mina says quietly, almost like she doesn’t want to.

Unease settles in my stomach and begins to make a home there. I haven’t spoken to Leliana since that first encounter, but with what Mal said just before she left and the way Mina is acting now has me concerned. Apparently I need to be careful around her, even though I’ve never met with her again. I don’t know who she is or what she does, but she seems to have a say in whatever happens to me. I remember that cold look she had on her face. There was no warm in her eyes, not like Mal’s.

Mina keeps her hand on my right arm, ready to catch me should I fall. I take my first limping step and to my surprise, it isn’t terrible. It still aches like a bitch, but I feel the difference from my first moments of consciousness. I wonder, though, if it will get any better.

Mina carefully pulls a cloak around my shoulders and begins to tie it near the hollow of my throat. I think she can feel my own unease about the situation leaking from me judging how much more her shoulders have hunched since she started helping me. I’m not mad at her, though. I don’t think I could ever be mad at her, especially not since she seems afraid of her own shadow half the time. I’m mad the the person who’s making Mina act this way. At Leliana for ordering me around like a dog even though I have no idea I’m healed enough to be walking for long distances.

“Thank you, Mina,” I say, wanting her to know that I appreciate her helping me, keeping me company, even though it seems like she doesn’t have a choice. She gives a small nod in return. I wonder for a moment what I could do to make her smile.

Finally ready, Mina opens the door for me and I take my first limping steps into the world I’ve been in for a month now.

The first thing I notice: it’s freezing. My already sour mood plummets. I knew it would be cold. I saw the snow falling outside my window, saw it lying on the ground, but I’ve found that seeing the snow from a relatively warm cabin and stepping out into it are completely different.

Mina starts walking and I try to keep up, but my limp is terrible, my whole body leaning off to the side. I honestly don’t know how much weight my leg can take, but I don’t want to risk it causing more pain.

“So, where’s Leliana?” I ask, looking around at the other cabins and people I see. I wouldn’t say there’s a lot of people here, but everyone does seem to be wandering around for one task or another.

“At the Chantry, miss,” Mina says. She notices that she has to slow down in order to for me to match my pace with hers.

“And how far away is that?” A few paces down the path and I’m already unsure if I can make it much farther.

“Not far,” Mina says, but then she purses her lips, like she realizes “not far” doesn’t mean to same thing to me anymore. I say nothing, hoping I can make it “not far.”

We’ve only made as far as a large set of gates and my right arm is already flung over Mina’s shoulders, her arm wrapped around my waist to help hold me up. Actually, we’re not even _at_ the gates. We’re still quite a few paces away. Overall, we didn’t even make it that far into the town; I could see the gates from the cabin door.

“Let’s just go back,” I say. “I don’t care what Leliana wants from me, my leg isn’t healed enough for me to do this.” The pain hasn’t been terrible when I was still lying in bed. It still lingered for the most part, but now, after walking, it felt like my injury was new. My breathing is heavy, tears are pricking at my eyes. I find it hard to believe that I’ll ever be able to really walk at this rate. A few steps is all it takes before the pain becomes too much.

Wanting to wallow in pity in my own cabin, I try to turn myself and Mina back that way we came. But Mina seems planted to the spot for a woman so small and slightly shorter than me.

“Miss, look.” She tries her best to point, though I’m not sure where at first.

And then I see it.

Mal is walking through the center of Haven, coming right for us, apparently leaving what I suppose is her adventuring party behind.

“Look at you!” Mal says, spreading her arms wide and gesturing to me. “I knew you could do it.” There’s a smile on her face, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. In fact, she’s struggling to keep it in place.

 “You neglected to mention the part where I’m holding to Mina for dear life,” I reply, a half-hearted smile on my face.

A soft, indulging, _genuine_ look comes across her face. “Progress, Diane. You couldn’t even leave your bed when I left. Things like this take time.”  
“I know. It’s just…It’s hard,” I say quietly, not wanting to admit it.

Mal takes a step closer, placing a hand on free arm. “I know.” She says nothing else. And what else is there to say? That things will be better? That I won’t stop feeling this way? I’m thankful that she knows I won’t believe those lies. Her hand leaves me. “I have to go now speak with Leliana now, but we’ll talk soon.” Her eyes lose that softness they just had at the mention of the other woman. Mal turns to Mina. “Thank you for taking care of my friend.” Mal is careful to make sure whatever emotion she’s feeling isn’t directed at Mina.

Mina seems to beam and blush at the same time. She bows her head a bit, saying “It’s an honor, Lady Herald.”

“Why do you need to talk with Leliana?” I ask. I’m a little shocked that Mal mentioned Leliana at all. How could Mal know what she made me do? She only just got back.

Mal turns back to me and looks me up and down. “Because you’re out here, even though you probably shouldn’t be.” She has such an intense look on her face, the anger behind her eyes only a hint at her displeasure. Mal gives a final, tight smile and turns away. “This way, Blackwall,” she calls to a bearded and armored man that I just not notice has been standing some paces away from us. She leads the man toward the large stone building I was looking at earlier, the Chantry. But, just before he turns away, then man seems to stare at me for a moment before turning and following Mal. I wonder what he has to do with this.

Ever so slowly, Mina and I make our way back to my cabin, my knee crying out all the while.

When I finally get settled in bed, I wonder how Mal even knew that I was practically ordered out of my cabin.

* * *

 There’s a knock. “Come in,” I say, removing my hands from just above my knee. The slight pressure seems to help a bit, but it’s hardly a solution. I still have two vials of that pain medicine I was given, but I’m hesitant to use them. What if I have a really bad day? I can make it through this current wave pain without it. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

The door opens. “How was your trip?” I ask, trying to adjust my position in bed.

“It went as well as can be expected,” a male voice responds. I look up.

I had been expecting Mal, but instead, Solas is standing a few feet away.

“Have you been walking long?” Solas continues.

“No, today was my first real attempt.” I think about telling him Leliana commanded it, but I hesitate. Does it really matter? I assume he works for her.

“Why would you attempt it when you were clearly having so much trouble?” he asks, genuinely curious.

“I…didn’t have much of a choice.” I’m hesitant to say it, but at the same time I want to know his reaction. I want to know if I can trust this man.

Solas’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?” His attention is now completely on me. Every other time we spoke, it seemed as if he had something else on his mind.

“The way I understand it, Leliana said I had to. With the way Mina acted, it seemed like there would be consequences if I didn’t.” I keep my eyes on him, trying to catch every twitch of his lips or flick of his eyes. A steady frown forms on his face.

_He didn’t know about this._

I wait for him to say something about it, but he gives no reaction beyond his bothered expression.

“Show me your knee,” Solas commands and it startles me a bit. Normally, his voice is calm even when he’s asking those strange questions that I don’t know the answer to. Now, his voice is low, almost rumbling. He seems angry at what Leliana did. At first, I think it’s because of the trauma done to my knee, but then I know that’s probably not it. Solas knows something is off about me, but can’t seem to figure out what exactly it is. I don’t think he cares much for my well-being if I’m being honest. Still, it’s strange to see him this way but it’s…comforting, in a way. To know that he doesn’t appear to agree with me being ordered around when I can barely walk out the door.

I lift the sheets off my body and I shiver. I’ve changed back into one of the tunic’s I had been given and that means I’m not wearing any pants. I mean, they’re nice, especially with the cold air that hasn’t quite dissipated since Solas came in, but they’re also hell to deal with when I still need to worry about pulling them over my knee.

I move to sit at the edge of the bed. This time, it’s a lot easier than when Solas had me do this before, but the strain that was put on my knee by walking too soon still makes it painful.

“There was some constant pain before I walked, though it was manageable enough. But now it feels like it did a few weeks ago,” I say before Solas can ask anything.

He hums in thought as he crouches down gently places his hands on my leg, turning it this way and that, gently probing at the swollen area around the knee, my face twitching at the pain all the while.

“When you were walking, did you feel anything different, other than the pain?”

“Such as…?” I’m not sure what’s he’s asking.

“Such as your bones grinding together,” he says, not wasting breath on trying to be gentle with his words.

“Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s just,” I search for the words. “It was hard to move and not just because of the pain. It’s like it just doesn’t move that way anymore.” I feel my stomach rolling over itself. I bit my lip, as if it will keep my feelings in check and stop any vomit from coming up. “Can’t you do that magic thing you did before?” Solas’s hands stop and his hard stare finds my quizzical one. Even if it doesn’t last long, it works faster and better than that pain medicine.

“No,” he says quietly. His eyes return to my leg and he doesn’t say anything else.

_Well, why the hell not?_

I’m again filled with the want to ask more, know more, but I doubt Solas would be very receptive, at least not right now.  
“You seem to be healing as well as can be expected,” Solas says as he finishes his examination, though he still stays on his knees. To better look my in the eyes, I suppose.

“How much longer will it be like this?” I feel myself biting my lip again and I stop. I don’t want him to see…I don’t know. Any sort of emotion from me, I think. I don’t know him. I don’t know if I can trust him.

“You may be able to walk with more ease in a few more weeks, if that is what you want to know. But as for the pain…” His voice is softer now, as if trying to calm a spooked animal. “It may never go away.”

I take a steadying breath, telling myself that I can do this, that I can deal with this and it won’t stop me.

Solas places a hand carefully on left leg, the uninjured one, in what is supposed to be a comforting action. “I will do what I can to help,” he says.

I want to believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rereading this chapter made me realize how glad I am that I'm a couple chapters ahead of what I post. I knew going into editing this one that I needed to rewrite a specific part of it. It wasn't until the end that I also found out that I would have to rewrite an entire scene in a later chapter because I literally forgot about the conversation between Diane and Solas at the end and basically wrote it again but less good.
> 
> At least it gave me a better idea of how I want to write Solas going forward. I don't know if I would have liked what I had done with him in that other scene.
> 
> Aaaand now I have go rewrite part of the next chapter because of what I fixed here all because I LITERALLY FORGET WHAT THESE CHARACTERS SAY TO EACH OTHER.


	6. Chapter 6

“What did she do to make you go outside?” It’s the first thing out of Mal’s mouth when she walks through the door, not long after Solas had left. She’s still in her armor. I wonder if she has anything else to wear. She walks up to my bed and just stands there. The look on her face could surely set fire to anything she set her gaze on. I’m only comforted by the fact that I know that anger isn’t directed at me.

“She didn’t do anything to me,” I say after a moment. “But Mina was practically terrified so I just did what she said.” Mal breathes out heavily through her nose; an irritated sigh. “Mina also said that Leliana would be waiting for me to come out.”

Mal’s mouth twitches into a sneer for just a moment before falling back into a frustrated line. “I told her to leave you be,” she says, more to herself than to me.

“Then why would she make me do that?” I ask. I don’t understand anything about this woman or why she seems to be using me against Mal and I _hate_ it.

“To see if you would break,” Mal says, her eyes completely devoid of emotion. “To taunt me. To show that she has more control around here than I do.” My hands twist around my sheet yet again. My bottom lip aches and I realize I’m practically gnawing on it.

“Well, then I’d say it just about worked,” I choke out.

Mal takes a step closer to the bed to place her hand on mind. “She will never do anything like that again.” There fire in her eyes has intensified. I don’t quite understand why it’s there, why she’s taking what happens to me to heart. But still…the thought that she cares about what happens to me sends a sliver a warmth spreading through my chest.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” My voice is barely above a whisper. I’m afraid of the answer, but I need it. I need to know why a complete stranger is defending me, protecting me.

Mal stares into my eyes for a moment. “I know what it feels like when someone tries to destroy you.” She seems to compose to herself, letting something go or perhaps just closing herself off from me. “And besides, I like you. I know you. I have no reason to see you harmed.”

“But the others aren’t like that. Who knows what will happen to me if you leave again.” The terror I feel when thinking about these people still rips its claws down my spin. My only impression of them I have is that they’re the extreme variety of “shoot first, ask questions later.”

“The others are scared little shits running around like chickens with their heads cut off,” Mal spits. “They have no idea what they’re doing, not yet. Leliana is still terrified of what happened and she’s looking for an out. You just happen to be the most convenient person after me.”

“And since you weren’t here, she’s went after me,” I say, resigned. Mal nods.

“But it won’t happen again.” Her voice has taken a deadly turn and I finally realize that I have no idea who Malika Cadash is or what she’s capable of.

“What are you going to do?” I’m afraid of the answer, but I have to ask.

Malika stands. “Everything is going to fine,” she says and my heart stops.

* * *

 Mina is nervously fluttering around my cabin as she waits for me to finish my bath. The water was amazingly warm when I first got in, but it’s slowly growing colder. I’m disappointed that I can no longer have long, luxurious baths anymore. For a world with magic, you’d think they’d figure out how to keep bath water heated for longer than ten minutes.

With a final dunk of my head under the water, as best I can manage without bending my right leg too much, I call Mina over. She practically jumps at the sound of my voice, more so than she normally does. Mina gently grabs my arm to help me stand.

“What’s wrong?” I tentatively ask as she wraps an almost threadbare towel around me.

Mina hesitates for a moment before turning her eyes toward mine for what feels like the first time. “The Lady Herald, she’s your friend?”

“Yes,” I say without hesitation, though I’m not sure how true that answer is. We barely know each other.

“The other servants say something happened with her yesterday.” Her eyes now leave mine as she now helps me step out of the large metal tub.

My stomach starts turning, like I could vomit at any moment. “What happened?”

“Nobody knows for sure. They were all locked in their meeting room, shouting much louder than they normally do.” She’s says the last part quietly, like she doesn’t want to admit that these people who seem to be in charge don’t get along.

“Who all was in there?” Mina guides me to the bed, where I finish drying off and she helps dress me.

“The Lady Herald, of course. Sister Leliana, Lady Montilyet, and the Commander. They like to talk in there about Inquisition business.” Mina stands in front of me while I sit on the edge of the bed. I have no idea who those last two people are, but if they’re anything like Leliana, I’m weary of them already.

“Aside from the yelling, what makes anyone think something was wrong?” I probe, wanting to get as much information as possible but also not wanting to scare Mina into silence.

Mina finally hesitates with her recounting. She brings her hands together and starts picking at her nails out of nervous habit. Her eyes meet mine for a brief moment, before turning down again. “It’s said the Lady Herald left the room with one of her blades drawn…and it might have had blood on it.”

My eyes go wide and breath stills.

_What did she do?_

“Is Mal okay?” If something happens to her, something will almost certainly happen to me.

Mina starts fidgeting even more. “They think so. She’s yet to leave her room in the Chantry.” She starts to gather my old clothes; she’s done talking.

“Thank you for letting me know, Mina,” I say. “I really appreciate it.” I see Mina give a slight bob of her head and I think I see a flush to her cheeks, but the cabin isn’t quite bright enough for me to say for sure.

* * *

 It’s another day before Mal comes to see me again. She’s wearing what I suppose are her leisure clothes rather than her armor. Just from looking at her, I can’t tell if she’s hurt.

“How is my favorite human?” Mal asks as she plops down in the chair that seems to now be permanently placed by my bed rather than with the desk where it was supposed to be.

“Only favorite human?” The phrase feels strange on my tongue. I’m still not used to the idea of elves and dwarfs, even with my interactions with Mal and Mina. “I’m not your favorite person?”

“Well, Varric’s not to bad,” Mal says she crosses one leg over the other and leans back into the chair.

“Varric?” I ask. I’m again reminded of how much I don’t know. Out of the three people who I see most often, none of them tell me much about the world beyond my door. With Mina and Adan, I try not to ask to many questions. And whatever I do ask, they give minimal answers and respond in a way that assumes I have basic knowledge of Thedas. But I don’t. Their words breeze past me on a regular basis. I try to retain as much as I can, but when I have even less knowledge about this place than I did Earth, it’s hard.

“Oh, that’s right,” Mal says, her voice carrying a lighter, surprised tone. “You’ve never met him.” Creases emerge on her forehead as she gets lost in thought for a moment. “Does anyone come to see you?”

“Only Adan and Mina. Neither of them talk very much, no matter how much I babble at them.” I give a small shrug, like it doesn’t bother me all that much. When I work up the nerve to say something to Adan, it’s like speaking to a brick wall. I mean, sure, he says something now and then, but most of the time I think he ignores me. And Mina…well, she just seems naturally quiet.

Mal hums in thought.

“It’s not that surprising, really,” I continue. “Since I couldn’t even get out of bed until very recently.” Then, Mal has playful smirk on her face and a look in her eye which I’m sure will mean she’s up to no good. “What?”

“Oh, just an idea. But that’s for later.” The smirk falls and stoic wave washed over her. “Leliana won’t be bothering you anymore.” My heart gives a nervous flutter.

“I…heard things,” I say, though I’m quite sure what _to_ say.

“Servants do like to talk…” Mal trails off, apparently already knowing where I got the information.

“What did you do?” I ask after a beat of silence.

“I took care of it,” Mal says with a finality I have no power to question. There’s something she’s not telling me, about herself or those people, I’m not sure.

“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say to a person who perhaps just threatened someone for me. Neither of us speaks for a moment. Then I ask, “Who are you?”

Mal seems taken aback at the question, confusion marring her face. “What?”

“I mean, I’ve told you about me, or at least where I’m from, but you haven’t really told me much about you.”

She’s sighs, as if in defeat. “I guess you’re right. It’s not really something I’m used to doing, if I’m being honest.”

“Are you? Being honest?” I ask with a smile, trying to lighten her somewhat darkened mood.

She smiles. “For you? Always.” And so she begins.

Malika Cadash is a spy for a crime syndicate called the Carta. They specialize in smuggling lyrium, which, according to my best guess, is some kind of drug. She came to the still mysterious to me Conclave to learn about the outcome of the meeting and report back, but things changed. Everyone died, including those she traveled to Haven with. She’s now hailed as a holy figure, chosen by a god to guide the people of Thedas. She has since been forced, her words, to work with the Inquisition to not only seal the Breach, but stop a war, which she doesn’t into much detail about. I figured I’d ask her about it later since she’s already told me so much information that I’m trying to wrap my head around. Mal was sent to some place called the Hinterlands to meet with some woman apart of the church that’s lifting Mal up as the chosen one to gain political favor and to figure out what to do about the Mage-Templar war. She moves along before I have time to ask what a templar is.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that she doesn’t want to talk about her time in the Carta. I had asked why she decided to join.

“I was born into it,” was all Mal said. She then started talking about what it was like traveling with Cassandra, Solas, and Varric. I just hope her reluctance to divulge such intimate details about herself stems from being not ready to tell me that sort of stuff quite yet and not because she’s trying to hide something.

So, I asked about her friends.

“They’re not my friends,” she quickly corrected. “Well, Cassandra and Solas aren’t. Varric is entertaining enough to be called an acquaintance. Haven’t known Blackwall that long.”

She doesn’t seem to have much to say about any of them. Cassandra is a former Seeker who worked for the Divine before said woman died in the explosion. Some special kind of templar, Mal said. Solas is a runaway mage.

“Though can he be a runway if he’s never been in a Circle?” Mal asked, speaking more to herself than me.

Varric was friends with the Champion of Kirkwall and an author. All she says about this Hawke person was that a friend of their’s was at least part of the catalyst for the war.

And Blackwall was a Grey Warden, a group of people whose sole purpose was to stop the Blight, whatever that is. According to Mal, no one knows much about them. She has less to say about him than the others, but that’s to be expected.

And then she just talked. Talked about traveling to the Hinterlands, what it was like there. How she wanted to spit at Mother Giselle’s feet.

About how she never knew what it was like not working for the Carta. She doesn’t linger on that thought for too long, though.

I finally have an idea of who she is, what she might be capable of, even though she doesn’t tell me everything. I don’t expect her too. But I’m glad she’s here, speaking to me like there’s nothing strange about either of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting bad at writing and updating this (I used to update on a schedule but so much for that now). 
> 
> I've been caught up with reading books and I don't know how to properly manage my time to include both reading and writing ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> (P.S. Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian comes out April 24th and y'all should preorder it, it's great)


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